Mycroft Holmes is waiting outside 221B Baker Street as John walks up to the door. He is standing under the awning of the cafe downstairs, looking through a newspaper innocuously. John recognizes the brown folder tucked under his arm as an ominous sign.
"Official visit?"
"Aren't they all?" Mycroft responds without looking up from his newspaper. He smiles in the awkward pulled way the Holmes boys share when they have been inconvenienced.
"Why are you waiting down here?"
"My dear brother won't open the door.' Mycroft turns his bored stare onto the next article before folding the paper under his arm. 'but you're here now."
"What if I hadn't come?"
"I would have arranged something." Mycroft's tone has the finality that John has come to know. He shuffles through his pockets for his keys before letting them both in.
As they ascended the stairs John can't help feeling that being followed by Mycroft Holmes is akin to having a very stern shadow. He makes no noise on the creaky stairs, nor does he attempt small talk or the usual greetings.
John opens the door to the apartment to see Sherlock lying on the couch, his long fingers in prayer and pressed against his lips. He is in the same clothes as the night before, John is just grateful he isn't wrapped in a sheet.
"Mycroft leave, John stay and stop letting people in off the street."
"You wouldn't get cases if I did that.' John heads straight for the kitchen, not eager to witness a Holmes' staring contest. 'I'll make tea, shall I?"
"There's a tongue in the sugar bowl." Sherlock announces into space. His eyes focused on the ceiling.
"You're the one who takes sugar"
"Get up, brother mine. We need to have a family meeting."
"About what?"
"Your new girlfriend." There is a clatter in the kitchen and John sticks his head into the living room.
"Sorry, what?"
"For god sakes, she is not my girlfriend." Sherlock sits up, mussing with his hair.
"Hang on, you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
Mycroft opens the envelope and pulls out three photos lining them up on the coffee table. John walks over quickly to look at them.
"She appears to be a bad influence on you." Mycroft comments drily as Sherlock looks at the grainy photos on the coffee table. He sees himself lighting Serene's cigarette, then caressing her palm. It looks as intimate in the grainy photo as it felt out on the balcony. He remembers the way her tongue had touched her teeth and it makes his stomach tighten. The last one she is kissing him, his hands on her ribs and his body crushing her into the railing.
"That's Serene. That's Lestrade's woman."
"Apparently not." Is Sherlock's only response, as he sees John's phone whip out and snap a photo of the last one. "What are you doing?"
"Mary will never believe me."
"So she has a name, thank you John. You have made my job much easier"
"I am surprised you found it a challenge, Mycroft."
"Well I have only been aware for-' Mycroft consults his watch '-an hour."
"You rushed over here for this?" John sounds incredulous.
"I was going to congratulate you, until-' Mycroft throws a fourth photo on top of the pile. 'I saw this."
Sherlock picks this one up looking at it closely. He sees himself and Serene kissing, but it is zoomed in and enhanced. He can see one of Serene's hands tangled in his hair the other is clearly waving. Her eyes are looking into the camera. He begins to laugh throwing down the photo.
"Oh you clever, clever girl"
"This is no laughing matter Sherlock, I assume you know whose flat she is staying in?"
"Is she waving?" John sounds incredulous.
"Oh yes she is. She saw your cameras Mycroft, that's why she kissed me."
"Yes, it is obviously a warning. About how close she can get to you. I repeat, you know whose flat she is staying in?"
Sherlock bats the idea away with his hand "a billionaire who has spent significant time in Japan, frequently makes shady art deals and has a penchant for silk sheets. What of it?"
"Not any old billionaire, Sherlock; a billionaire activist who has been a financier for more than one anti-government militia from East Africa to Iran. Spent significant time in Japan trying to save the whales. It took me most of an hour to untangle the name on the lease. He is not a good man."
"It wasn't a warning, Mycroft- "
"How do you know he has silk sheets?" John pipes in.
"Hmm?" Sherlock turns to look at John directly.
"How. Do you know. He has silk sheets?" John clarifies, his voice mocking.
"Oh. I looked."
John starts chuckling to himself and Sherlock joins in.
"Really, you two. Can you take something seriously for once?"
Sherlock gathers the photographs up and hands them to Mycroft while ushering him out.
"Yes, yes we'll keep it in mind. Please take these with you, wouldn't want to get Mrs. Hudson's hopes up."
Mycroft stops him at the door "I mean it, Sherlock. Stay away from her and that flat."
"No, I don't think I will." Sherlock gestures out of the flat.
"Then I shall have to intercede." Mycroft walks out with his head held straight, his threat hanging in the air.
With a flourish Sherlock sits in his chair and starts plucking at the violin.
"So." John sits opposite him, his bad leg stretched out. "Out with it then."
"What?"
"Well we know why she kissed you, but why did you kiss her?"
Sherlock stops plucking and looks up at him. "Do I need a reason?"
"Yes, you are Sherlock, there is always a reason."
Sherlock shrugs. "She was drugged."
"What? Sherlock, that is the exact opposite of a reason to kiss someone."
"Relax, I wasn't the one who drugged her."
"Oh, right that makes it better."
"Seemed to be a good way to make sure she stayed awake."
"Right, is that your medical opinion then?"
Sherlock puts the violin aside. "Are we coming to a point, John?"
"Will you tell Lestrade?"
"I can't see it is any of his business."
"He's your friend, you shagged his girl. There's- there's protocol."
"She isn't 'his'. He's never even been back to the flat and I didn't 'shag' her. So the way I see it is no one's business, but my own."
John Watson nods thoughtfully. "Did you mean it when you told Mycroft you were going to see her again?"
"Of course-' Sherlock springs up and bounds towards the bedroom. '-After all she will be here any minute. If you excuse me I should really dress."
He disappears around the corner towards his bedroom and John looks around the whirlwind that is the flat.
"Christ. She's coming here."